


Consultation

by Jadesfire



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Mentalist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-10
Updated: 2010-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-13 03:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadesfire/pseuds/Jadesfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two detectives walk into a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Consultation

**Author's Note:**

> Although it doesn't share a fandom with them, in my own mind, this story shares a bar with the stories in A Few Quiet Drinks. The rest is up to the reader.

All the corners of the bar were dark. In fact, the room seemed to have more corners than should have been possible given its size, and Lisbon couldn't see into any of them. If Jane hadn't been balancing a tray of drinks, she would have been tempted to put a hand on his back, just to make sure she didn't lose him in the gloom.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" She knew Jane had a few shady contacts, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

"Please." Although she couldn't see his face, Lisbon could imagine it from the tone of Jane's voice. Apparently that had been a stupid question.

Suddenly one corner lit up with the glare of a television screen, flashing with lights and colour. Lisbon squinted against the brightness, blinking to try to bring the picture into focus before realising it was just a swirling pattern. After another moment, words began to scroll across the bottom of the screen, making her blink again.

"Karaoke? Seriously?"

When there was no reply from Jane, she turned and almost knocked over a guy holding a glass in each hand as he tried to squeeze past her.

"Sorry," he said, touching the rim of one glass to the brim of his hat in a salute that should have been clumsy but that he managed to pull off with style.

Lisbon held up her hands, letting him past. "My bad," she said, feeling a little disconcerted by the brilliant smile he gave her. In the darkness, it reminded her of Jane's when he was trying to pull a fast one. She watched him go, only realising as he disappeared into the darkness of a booth that she was checking her pockets, apparently on autopilot. Shaking her head, she looked around for Jane, eventually spotting him by a booth almost straight ahead of her, waving impatiently for her to come over to join him. As she crossed the bar, she could just about make out two shapes in the gloom opposite him; he hadn't been kidding when he'd said that his contacts were 'mysterious'.

"Meet anyone interesting?" he asked, shifting over so that she could sit down. "We can wait if you want to…" he trailed off at her glare.

"It's fine, thanks." She took her drink, all too aware of the two presences in the shadows. Hopefully that was just Jane being Jane, not part of some show for their contacts. In general, she didn't mind improvising, but it was usually better when Jane let her in on the act from the start. Taking a cautious sip of the drink that she assumed was hers, although no one had actually asked her what she wanted, she watched Jane out of the corner of her eye. Although she couldn't claim to always know what he was thinking, she knew enough to know that his expression now was serious, and that this was no act.

"We understand that you have a problem." The voice came from the figure on the left It was kindly, with an edge of confidence beneath it. The accent was British, she thought, of the type she associated with Oscar Wilde films, old-fashioned somehow, but reassuring nonetheless.

"Why else would they be here?" The other voice had the same accent, more clipped this time and with a definite air of impatience. The more she tried to see into the gloom, the more Lisbon had to give credit to whoever had chosen these seats. Lights over the table meant that she could see to pick up her drink, but they also deepened the shadows, making it impossible to see the faces of the men opposite. There was a grille high up in the wall letting in streaks of light from street lamps, making it even harder to be sure of anything except that there were two people opposite them and they both drank very boring-looking drinks.

Wordlessly, Jane slipped the crime scene photographs across the table, spreading them so that they could be seen properly. In the odd yellow light, the victim's face seemed almost otherworldly, unreal somehow. The scene itself had been brutally real, but somehow, here and now, they felt like views into another life. Lisbon grimaced and turned her attention back to her drink.

"Very good work," the man on the left said, as the one on the right put a long finger on the corner of a picture.

"My dear fellow, you're too easily impressed," he said, his voice barely a murmur. There was the sound of movement, and when Lisbon looked up, she found herself on the receiving end of one of the sharpest stares she'd ever seen. The man had leaned forward far enough that one of the slats of light fell across his face, illuminating deep, hooded eyes and high cheekbones.

She didn't look away, too used to Jane by now to be surprised, but as the stare went on, she wished she had. There was something too intense about it, as though he could not only see right into her, but out the other side as well. It didn't feel deliberately intrusive, as though he was trying to find out all about her just from meeting her eyes, more that just by looking at her, he couldn't help but know everything about her, possibly even the things she didn't know about herself. She resisted the urge to shiver.

After another second, he gave her what might have been the slightest of nods, then his eyes dropped to the table, roaming over the pictures. There was no emotion in what little she could see of his face, just the interest of a professional in a puzzle that had been presented to him.

Lisbon picked up her drink and tried not to think about that stare, or what a relief it was not to have it directed at her any more. Although if he kept that up with the photographs, he might burn a hole in them.

Carefully, he ran his finger lightly over the surface of one photo, as though trying to sense something from it that couldn't be seen with the naked eye. At this time, in this place, Lisbon was half-ready to believe that was true, except that Jane didn't believe in psychics, and she doubted he would have brought her to see one.

"Well?" Jane asked, more than a little impatience in his voice. When Lisbon glanced over, he gave her a 'not now' head-shake, and she wondered what that steady gaze saw when it looked into him.

After another moment, the moving finger settled on a point just above the victim's right shoulder, tapping what looked to Lisbon like empty space. Jane leaned forward a little, tilting his head and frowning. Then his face cleared.

"Ah."

When no one said anything else, Lisbon looked from one to the other. "That's it? Ah? That's your great revelation?"

"Maddening, isn't it?" The man on the left was still too much in darkness for Lisbon to see his face, but she could tell from his voice that he was smiling. "Trust me, it doesn't get any less annoying."

"Mostly because none of you seem to be getting any brighter." The words were crisp and cutting, but Lisbon had the impression that this was another round in a long, familiar argument. She knew a little about that.

"Thank you," Jane said, gathering up the pictures and slipping them back into their envelope. "Send the CBI the bill."

"You bought the drinks." The man on the right finally picked his up, settling back into the deeper shadows. "And it wasn't exactly a challenging puzzle."

Lisbon decided not to take that personally, just this once, and she had half got up to leave when she realised Jane wasn't moving. Before she could ask what was wrong, she saw how his hands were still curled around the top of the envelope, how his shoulders were stiff and still, as though he was bracing himself. Which, of course, he was, and she knew why. She knew that look. Carefully, she sat back down, letting him work his own way towards the question.

Apparently not everyone had her patience.

"Patrick." To her surprise, it was the man on the left who spoke, his voice gentle as though trying not to alarm a frightened animal. "If we had anything, we would have told you. Every resource we have is at your disposal but-"

"Red John remains as elusive as ever." The man on the right dropped his empty glass onto the table with a thud that made Jane jump. "As soon as we have news, you will hear it."

There was no mention of how exactly that would work, and Lisbon decided it was best not to ask. The absolute conviction in that promise was enough to convince her, and apparently Jane too, since he nodded, blinking a little and gradually uncurling his hands.

"Of course," he said, almost sounding reassured. If you didn't know him. "Thank you. And for this." He tapped the envelope, then looked over at Lisbon. "Shall we?"

* * *

After the two Americans had exited the bar, the man on the left turned to the one on the right.

"It might have been kinder to just tell him."

It wasn't possible to see clearly in their dark corner, but he knew that his companion shrugged before answering. "Kinder? Perhaps. More useful?" He made an irritated noise.

There was still skepticism, in the first man's voice. "Even so. He is not going to stop, however little help we give him."

"And do you think further assistance would bring him the resolution he seeks?"

This was an old argument between them, and neither had changed their position yet. Still, it was not one he was prepared to give up. "Perhaps not, but kindness can be an end in itself."

"At times." His companion leaned forward a little. "But this is his hunt, not ours." The slats of light across his face gave him a hungry, over-keen look that the first man knew only too well. "We have our own work to do."

Never tiring of hearing those words, the first man drained his glass and set it back on the table. He could see his companion's grin, a pale glow of bared teeth in the darkness and a mirror of his own smile.

"Well then," he said. "I'd better call us a cab."


End file.
